


Baking Lessons

by Mercyisnotasignofweakness



Series: Drabbles, requests and more [13]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, For once he's actually happy, Just generally sweet things that happens and a very happy UF Pap, Kitchen Sex, Smut, kinda domestic, request fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 21:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7480089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercyisnotasignofweakness/pseuds/Mercyisnotasignofweakness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>Reader is teaching UF Papyrus to bake a cake so he can surprise his brother on his birthday. They end up doing something that has nothing to do with cakes or baking at all.</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baking Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> Hello @teandoms! A little birdie (@freshfromhell666) told me you were having a bad day. Now, we can’t have that, so here we are, coming to the rescue!
> 
> This right here is 2300 words of UF Pap x Reader teeth rotting fluff and smut to cheer you up. Your friend told me you liked baking and cooking, so I had reader try and teach Papyrus to bake a cake. Now, you can choose whether you want to read this as an unofficial continuation of Reborn and Refined, as I have heard you are a fan of, or read it as a different universe. Whatever works for you.
> 
> I hope this helps just a little! I wrote is as fast as I could, so there might be some mistakes (since it is not betaed), but I hope it can help make your day a little better. :)
> 
> With the best of wishes,
> 
> Cam

“Okay, so now you just take this and swipe it gently along the edge while pressing on it very softly” you say. You release your hold on the piping bag, leaving it in his slightly shaking hands, and steps back to watch him work.

He is bend over the desk, eyes half-lidded but focused and tongue caught between his teeth in an attempt to concentrate. He’s the picture of adorable right now, especially wearing that frilly apron and with small specks of flour dust all over his black sweater. You still can’t believe you actually managed to persuade him to wear that apron. It’s ridiculous, but so cute at the same time.

He fumbles with the flexible piping bag a little, struggling to find a way to hold it that feels comfortable. You hear him curse shortly under his breath before he apparently gets a good enough grip. It’s awkward and wrong; his right hand is at the opening on the top of the bag and not at the metal mouth as it should be. His left hand is around it’s middle, squeezing it a bit too hard. You can already see it’s going to end terribly, but you stay quiet and let him try. You didn’t learn it the first time either and having your mother yell at you for fucking up sure didn’t help either. You aren’t going to correct him without him asking for help. He needs to learn the right way and not by being pressured.

He makes the first hesitant swipe with the bag, putting an excess amount of the light blue icing on the side of the cake you’ve spent the last three hours making together. He looks at you from the corner of his eye, somewhat nervously if you have to put a word on it, like he’s asking if he’s doing it right. You just give him a big smile and nod to him to make him continue.

For five whole minutes he struggles with piping three lines of icing on the sides of the cake like you have showed him. The lines are uneven and rough, but you can’t remember seeing a first attempt more perfect than this one.

God, you really are a lovesick fool.

When he for the fourth time accidentally squeezes too hard around the bag and the icing shoots out over the desktop, he straightens up with a groan and throws the piping bag on the desk next to the cake.

“Obnoxious thing, I’ve had enough of you!” he growls at it, sending it several deadly glares. You can’t help giggling a little.

“Come on, you were doing so good” you say, taking a step closer. You pick up the bag and squeeze the remaining icing into the bottom of it. With a twist you seal of the opening and grab the fold in the bag with your left hand. With your right you take hold of the small metal mouth and let the bag rest against your forearm. This way you have perfect control over the bag.  

“I was terrible” Papyrus states, looking pointedly at the difference between the line of icing you made to demonstrate and the three ones he did.

“Practice makes perfect” you remind him, even though you are sure he already knows that.

“This is unnecessarily complicated and I hate it” he grumbles. He crosses his arms and steps back when you wiggle yourself in front of him so you can get to the cake. You give him a small smile over your shoulder before bending down so you have the perfect angle to work at.

“I never said it would be easy” you remind him, “Just that I could teach you how to bake. You brought it up, remember?”

“Yes of course I do, but I am very close to just buying the damn cake for my brother” he mumbles. You shake your head a little and get to work. With small practiced flicks of your wrist and just the right pressure, you decorate the sides of the cake with a fine wavy pattern.

“Wouldn’t that be kinda sad though?” you ask while working, “You said you wanted to see Sans cry when he finds out you made his birthday cake.”

“Yes” he sighs, dragging the word out. He always gets so disappointed when he’s not good at things the first time he tries them. You’ve never really found out why he has this intense need to be perfect in everything he does.

“There, it’s done” you announce happily after applying the last line of icing. You straighten up and place the bag on the desk again. After drying your hands in a dishtowel you place them on your hips and step back to look at your creation. It’s not bad, you decide.

Bony arms snake around your waist and you feel Papyrus rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Thank you for teaching me” he murmurs into your ear. You lean your head back against his chest and turn it a little so you can press a kiss to his cheek.

“You’re welcome” you say, “Next time will be better, don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of it quickly and Sans will cry so hard when he sees it.” Papyrus hums in response and straightens up again.

He gently makes you turn around in his arms by pushing at your shoulders. You look at him in question when he leans forward a little, taking something from the desk. When he leans back again he smiles to you in that way that tells you he’s up to something.

“Hmm, it seems like I’m not the only one who’s a little messy…” he purrs softly at you.

“What?” you croak confused. God damn him for being so attractive. You’re never able to look away from him when he looks so happy and comfortable as he does right now. He’s always so serious and burdened by all kinds of things, but in rare moments like these when you are alone, he’s a completely different person. He’s open and kind and he smiles so easily.

“Look at this right here” he says and lifts his finger. You see the icing covering the tip of it too late. Before you can move out of the way, he rubs it off on your cheek with a small chuckle. “So dirty…” he mumbles, “, Here, let me help clean you up.”

He leans down and licks the mess of icing off your cheek in a long, slow swipe. When he is done he pulls back and lifts a brow bone at you, waiting for your reaction.

All coherent thoughts is paused for a few moments while a strong current of electric desire zaps through your body and straight down between your legs. Fuck, he always knows just what buttons to push to make your head spin.

When he sees your brain reboot, one of his hands cups your jaw. He pulls you in for a kiss and you come willingly, your eyes already closed long before the buzz of his magic press against your soft lips. You love that he does that, even though he technically doesn’t have to. He told you that it’s to protect you from his sharp teeth so your vulnerable human lips won’t be cut open on them. He can feel your kiss and he can manipulate his magic to move like lips against yours, but it’s not something that is necessary for him. Skeleton monsters have no real need for a kiss, so this is all for you. All because he wants you to be happy and fuck, the thought of that makes your chest feel tight. How is it even possible to love someone as much as you love him?

The kiss stays slow, but it still makes your belly burn in the best way possible. Soon you are moving closer to each other, your arms wrapping around each other like they’ve done so many times before. You know what is going to happen and manage to pull you both a little to the left. Half a minute later he reaches down and lifts you by your thighs, pushing your butt in over the desktop so you can sit there.

This is when you open up your mouth and invite his tongue in. He lets a small moan of appreciation escape before he attacks your mouth with vigor. His hands start travelling over your sides and down to your hips. As always, he digs his fingers into the meat of your hips, another moan escaping his chest. He really likes your fleshy parts. Like,  _ really  _ likes them.

While he has his fun with your hips and ass cheeks, you instead slide your hands under his sweater and start caressing his back and his neck. You flick, stroke and scrape all the sensitives spots he has, making his breathing hitch and quicken in tact with yours. He knows your body as well as you know his and it takes no time at all for both of you to moan each others names hotly against the other’s mouth.

On a silent cue, both of you decide it’s time to move on. Papyrus pulls back from the by now heated kisses and pulls off your pants. He drops them to the floor without consideration alongside the apron he’s wearing. Then he is quick to pull your panties to the side and bury his tongue in your pussy.

You mewl happily when his hot tongue slides past your folds and into your heat. A hand automatically rests itself on his head while the other rests against the desktop, keeping you steady. He wastes no time, just starts working eagerly on making sure you are ready for the grand finale. Many things can be said about him, but he’s always a careful lover. He never hurts you unless you want him to.

You experience the pleasure of having his mouth on you for three minutes before he pulls back and stands so he can kiss you. While kissing you, he slides a couple of fingers inside you to test how many you can take.

“Mmh…” he hums against your lips, “You are always so ready for me, love.”

“It’s just ‘cause you’re so good with your tongue” you mumble back to him. You steal a few more kisses and lick your lips. There’s something stupidly hot about tasting yourself on his tongue and teeth. It’s like a permanent mark that won’t go away for awhile. He’s smell and taste like you for days after this. It makes something possessive purr in your belly in joy.

“Spread your legs” he asks, “I can’t wait any longer.” You eagerly do as told, leaning back on both your arms and tilting your pelvis up so he has the best possible angle. He’s so tall that he has to bend his knees a little to reach.

He slides his arms underneath your knees and pulls them up, giving himself a better angle. He kisses you again when he slides into you, capturing all your delighted moans. When he bottoms out he waits for your word, letting you adjust just a little to his large girth.

However, today you don’t need any time at all. You’re ready and the slight burn from the stretch adds a layer of pain that adds to the pleasure ten times when he starts moving.

It’s slow, shallow thrusts at first, accompanied by sweet kisses and a tight embrace. You wrap your arms around his neck and squeeze around his cock, making him choke a little.

It has the desired effect. With a growl he picks up the pace and rests his forehead against yours. There’s no time for kisses now, only heavy breaths, rumbling moans and muttered curses.

It doesn’t take long before both of you start getting desperate, feeling the promise of release approaching quickly. Your movements become slightly faster and uncoordinated, but no less intimate. He clings to you as you do to him, one of his hands against your cheek and the other guiding your hips to meet his thrusts  _ just  _ right every time. Your arms are still curled around his neck, holding him as close to you as possible.

He opens his eyes and looks into yours. His eyes are infernos of emotions. There are so many unsaid things fluttering around inside his intense gaze. You feel the words that’s just on the tip of his tongue, but that refuses to be spoken out loud. In his world, those words gets you killed and he never says them out loud, even though his soul is dying to have him do it.

But he doesn’t have to say them out loud. You know by just looking into his eyes at moments like these.

When he sees you return the words in your own gaze, his eyes squeeze closed again and the string of rhythmic thrusts breaks. A few powerful snaps of hips is all you need when they are accompanied with the beautiful sight of his soul bursting with magic as he comes and the sounds of ecstasy falling from his mouth.

Your voices sing in harmony for a few seconds, your shaking bodies pressed so close that you can’t quite figure out which limb belongs to you and which belongs to him. You hugs him close as you pulsate around him, chanting his name like a prayer. He is your guardian angel after all, your savior, partner, lover and friend. He saved your life when you got trapped down here, kept you safe when the world wanted you dead, and in return, you saved him by giving him your heart.

You are a broken pair of souls, but together, you make a whole. And that is all that matters.

 

**_FIN._ **


End file.
